The Heart is a Muscle the Size of Your Fist
by G13
Summary: Quinn's life is perfect just as she's always wanted. Rachel quickly realized that while she was talented she lived in a very expensive city full of people just as talented. One drunken night in Vegas and a marriage later, Quinn sees her perfect life fading away fast while Rachel sees opportunity. Neither of them see what's in front of them. Slow Burn Faberry, Brittana
1. Before

Rachel had grown up terribly spoiled.

She had not one, but _two_ doting fathers who gave in to her every whim with very little arguments.

If she had been one of those children who had wanted a pony, she would have received a pony along with riding lessons, the best riding instructor available, and the best safety gear money could buy, in order to not permanently injure herself and make her unable to dance.

She had merely flirted with the idea of taking care of herself while in school –careful not to use the provided credit card_ too_ frivolously (and really, since she did not see the bill, she had no clue how much she was spending), getting a job at The Spotlight Diner with Santana and Kurt; a job she did not take seriously at all, insisting on paying her share of a rent with a check from her bank account, (and ignoring the fact that her Papa transferred the money into her account each month), and doing her part to keep their utility bills low.

This pretend independence kept up until she graduated from NYADA, and her darling parents informed her that she was amazing, but it was time she stood on her own two feet.

She had accepted the challenge with aplomb, another item in the long list of things that made Rachel a strong woman.

Reality had hit her hard the first time she'd received her credit card bill; it was nearly thirty-two hundred dollars –much more than Rachel made in a month, too busy going on auditions to take shifts at work. She ate out, she took cabs everywhere, she had to get the perfect audition clothing, she had to maintain her hair and makeup –it added up.

That, combined with the fact that the end of year NYADA rankings had come out, and despite her absolute best, (and her amazing freshman year) Rachel had been ranked 5th out of 18 for her program, and 13th out of 112 for her graduation year.

Kurt had beaten her, coming in at 4th and 11th.

A fact that he had been rather smug about.

She had been late on her share of the rent as well –and Santana had been even bitchy about that than normal (of course, by now, Santana paid rent. She had her own 'room' in-between Kurt's and Rachel's, making their room's a little smaller, but they had been plenty roomy before so it wasn't a hardship.)

In full blown sobbing mode, she'd called her parents.

They'd transferred enough money to her to pay her credit card bill, and her share of the rent, but sternly informed her that it was a onetime event, and only because of how upset she was by her end of the year ranking.

They'd once more assured her she was amazing, and that had been that.

Rachel was on her own.

She'd picked up shifts at work –and after doing some very quick math, had picked up another job when it became clear that her current hours were just not going to cut it. She stopped taking taxis. She reduced her eating out to a few times a month instead of a few times a day.

And it was enough for her to scrap by, fully confident that she would be a Broadway star soon enough and everything would work out in the end.

And now, a year after graduating, Rachel had a few bit parts here and there, and had managed to get the starring role in an off off off Broadway production –a production that never actually ended up being produced, just a handful of rehearsals that profoundly upset Rachel with the time wasted.

Rachel shuffled her messenger bag to her other shoulder, and tiredly walked up the steps to the apartment. She wanted nothing more than to take a long bath, practice her high notes, and then a solid ten hours of sleep.

Instead, she had just enough time for a quick shower, gobbling down a snack and coffee, then heading out for her second job.

This was_ not _what she thought her life would be like at age twenty two.

She'd gone from a big fish in a small pond to a small fish in a big pond at NYADA, and was still struggling to make it on Broadway after graduation.

No one was home, and Rachel was grateful. Santana was finishing up her first year of law school and an absolute bear because of preparing for finals, and if Rachel had to see how carefree and relaxed Kurt was (she swore he was_ still _smug about their graduation placements) only working his one job as an assistant to a fashion designer he met through his Vogue connections she'd scream.

She breezed past the kitchen -avoiding looking at the photo's Kurt had stuck on there of his niece. They were interspersed with the photos of him and Blaine -they were engaged, and planning their wedding.

She was_ long_ over Finn, but it still stung a little he was married and now a father. She was happy for him, but sometimes, when she'd gotten home late enough that she'd only catch a few hours of sleep before a morning with fruitless auditions then work, she'd wonder if life wouldn't have been better if she'd stayed in Lima, with him.

Brittany and Blaine were not home either.

That was another thing –living with two couples was difficult at times. Although the decrease in rent was nice. They each paid $700 a month for their share of rent and utilities. If it was the three of them, then they would be paying well over $1000 each.

Rachel was debating with herself on if she had enough time to blow dry her hair or not, when Santana barged into the bathroom.

"Did you get Puck's text?"

"Santana, how many times are we going to have to have this discussion? Knock!" Rachel snapped.

Santana rolled her eyes, "Rachel, I don't care about your itty bitty titties. Look, have you checked your phone? Puck sent a group text. Vegas baby! Are you going? Me and Britts are going to get our Vegas on –perfect thing to do after finals."

"I have not seen if Puck has texted me Santana; I very much doubt I will be able to attend between my jobs and auditions. Frankly, I'm surprised anyone will be able to attend with the last-minute invitation."

"It's not for a month, plenty of time to get off. Wanky."

"And how exactly will I be paying for this trip?"

Santana frowned at that, then shrugged, "Credit card?"

"Absolutely not, you know I abhor debit," Rachel clutched the towel tighter, and glared at Santana, hoping the other woman would let her finish her routine in peace, "If you recall, I called the credit card company and asked them to lower how much I am allowed."

This was Santana. While she had mellowed out considerably, she was still _Santana_. Rachel was not quite sure how the other woman had become her best friend, and she was definitely not all together sure it was _healthy_ to be best friends with someone who used to bully you in high school.

Santana shrugged, "Look, Britts and I can spot you. Hell, consider it your birthday and Hanukah gift this year. And next year. And the year after that. We already looked; it'll be about $200 round trip. And Puck said he's renting a house on AirBnB, and everyone's share will be another $200 or so for that and like, basic communal breakfast and lunches."

That was not nearly as expensive as she had assumed, "I appreciate the offer Santana, but I do not even know if Puck has invited me, and-"

Santana rolled her eyes, "You're going, even if I have to stuff you into my suitcase, you'd totally fit," she leaned against the door, frowning, "Since you graduated, and your parents cut you off all you do is work and work some more. I'm worried about you. Brittany's worried about you. And when are you going to get another chance to have fun in Vegas with your friends? Blaine and Kurt are getting married, and once we move out who knows how often we're going to see them. I mean –"

"Move out?" Rachel nearly dropped her towel.

"Kurt talked to me about it last week. They want to live alone after they get married. I guess he hasn't talked to you about it yet?"

"No..no..I've been dreadfully busy, he did say that we needed to have some one on one time since it's been a while, and asked me to go to lunch with him. I had to cancel, my audition ran long…we hadn't had a chance to reschedule." She was barely making it with the rent she paid now.

"Brittany and I aren't sure we won't stick around, I mean, if they want to live alone then they should be the ones to move out right? But if we do, we want to live with you. I think Brittany wants you to live with us even after we get married, and hell, after _you_ get married –pretty sure she's got visions of little blonde kids running around playing with little hobbits."

Rachel took a deep breath, "That's very unlikely considering I have not had time to date."

Santana ran a hand through her shaggy shoulder length hair, then shrugged, "Look, check your messages, and think about it? And try to make time for a roommate sit down. I don't really want to move, and honestly, from what Brittany said, I think Blaine would rather they find an apartment that doesn't have all these memories and junk in it."

"I do agree that it's ridiculous he thinks three people should move out because two want the apartment to themselves."

"I can see it both ways –he was the one who found this place."

"Does that matter after five years?" Rachel, after firmly making sure her towel was on tightly, started pulling her long hair back into a pony tail for work, finally accepting that Santana was in a chatty mood. "Regardless of who moves out it is going to be a nightmare to figure out what stays and what goes."

"Kurt picked out a lot of stuff, but you, then I, paid just as much as he did for it all. Yeah, that's going to be a hassle."

Rachel, after adjusting her pony tail, turned and looked at Santana, "Well, good thing we have a future lawyer on hand to figure it out."

Santana did not answer, just sighed.

"What?"

"It's just…I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing. "

"In law school?"

"Yeah. I mean, all the aptitude tests said I'd be great at it, my professors love me, and eventually I should be making bank. But…I dunno. I'm not sure I'll be happy."

"I did not think many people are truly happy with what they have to do to get by, Santana."

"Are you happy Rachel?"

Rachel paused mid applying a bit of BB cream to her face, and stared at herself in the mirror before answer, "This is not how I pictured things would be, but I wouldn't not say I am unhappy."

"But that's not you saying you're happy, either."

"I...I'm running late Santana, I will speak to you later, okay?"

And Santana, mercifully, finally let Rachel usher her out of the bathroom.

* * *

Sometimes Quinn's able to slip out of the office before someone claims her for their lunch break. As the son of the owner's fiancée, she's a popular lunch prize, second only to Brad himself. Brad, of course, worked in a different department so he was much harder for her coworkers to fight over.

She likes people watching as she nibbles on a sandwich she only ever eats half of at a small park a few blocks from their office.

She sits and she watches and imagines the lives of the people passing by, working herself into a funk that by the time she has to go back, she's down spirited for the rest of the day.

And never understood why, either, because she always imagined the people she watched lived happy, if boring lives. So perhaps it's good she's only able to slip out of the office by herself occasionally.

"Quinn?" Brad pulled her out of her thoughts, and she looked at him.

"Yes?"

"Quinn's just thinking about our last client, and how amazing she did with him," Luke shots her a winning smile that didn't reach his eyes. He was in the same position she was, and someone trying to curry what little favor she had to give, had told her that he complained about her a lot -how she only got the job because of who she was getting married too, while he had to work for it.

She didn't think that was true; she'd worked hard to graduate from Yale with a business degree, a creative writing minor and a 4.0 while juggling internships and a relevant part time job.

Luke had went to a state school and had zero experience when he'd started.

"I'm just distracted thinking about the summer," Quinn smiled, and tried not to look at Brad's plate, where an expensive steak sat cooked well done and covered in ketchup. Brad's fork scraped against the plate as he sawed against the grain.

"We're summering in the Hamptons," Brad told Luke, before putting a mangled bite of steak into his mouth neatly.

Luke's smile got tight, "You'll both be missed around the office," he replied too brightly. The 'it must be nice for daddy to let you take the entire summer off, paid' was implied, and Quinn felt herself flush.

"I will be coming in two days a week still, so not quite the whole summer."

"Oh, what about you Quinn?"

"No...I'll just be with Bunny the entire summer." Spending so much time with her future mother in law was going to be a delicate balancing act and she was not looking forward to it.

The trio falls silent, and Quinn picks at her food as eventually conversation resumes between the two men.

Her phone rings, and she flips it up from where it sat facedown on the table. Puck. Since she hasn't spoken to Puck in over two years, she can only assume it's an emergency. Her stomach dropped as she wondered if something had happened to Beth or Shelby.

"I need to take this, please excuse me," she slipped away. She hadn't told Brad about Beth, didn't plan on doing it until well after they were married.

"Puck? Is everything okay?"

"Quinn? You're coming to Vegas."

"Is that a question or a statement?" She asked dryly.

"Both? Look, it's going to be like a mini-reunion this summer, and -" she tuned out Puck as he talked, watching the strangers pass by the front of the restaurant. A woman -icy blonde, walking with a comfortable purpose walks by, and Quinn allows herself to stare until the woman is out of view.

That woman reminded Quinn of who she was. _Quinn_ Fabray.

She felt like Lucy more and more as she grew up. Lucy will marry the boss's son, take the entire summer off of work to trail after her future mother in law as the woman socializes with other rich women, then come back to work like she hadn't been gone for three months. Lucy had put up a token protest that her future husband had easily ignored. Lucy ignored her own feelings and needs and failed at everything she wanted.

She _wasn't_ Lucy. Hadn't been Lucy for a while. It was time to remind herself -and Brad, of that.

"When, Puck? I'll be there," the words slipped out quickly before she could talk herself out of agreeing. Quinn Fabray wanted the perfect life, and she had it. And now Quinn wanted to see some old friends and check out Vegas, so she would. Brad would get over it especially if she promised to get a lap dance at a strip club and send him a picture or five, and Bunny -well, there was no pleasing that woman anyway.

What's the worse that could happen?

* * *

A/N: I do really like to play around with common tropes, especially the ones found in these type of stories, so expect that and other bumps in the road. Slow burn is going to be slow because they really need to earn their happy ending, and to do that they have to work on themselves and their relationship -romantically and otherwise. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do! Please do be sure to check out my other work!

If you're so inclined, please review and tell me what you think. :)


	2. During

Quinn stood in the back of the room, near the bar, sipping on some awful concoction Artie, who was apparently playing bartender, handed her.

Bunny had not taken the news well that Quinn would be missing a week of their summer plans. Quinn had swore Brad to secrecy that she'd only be gone three days and not the full week. She planned on doing some painting in their house -well, Brad's house that she had only moved into a few months ago. Bunny had decorated it for him. And it showed. The walls needed to be painted something better, more modern, and Quinn wanted new curtains and art. So that'd be what she'd be doing the remaining four days after she got back from Vegas. Brad had been surprised when she had diplomatically said that she needed some time to do this, to make it their home instead of Bunny's son's home.

She should just leave now even though she'd just gotten here.

These people are strangers, nice memories -mostly. A handful she has friended on facebook, but she rarely logs in anymore and honestly, doesn't care about any of them. They're her past. She should be moving forward with Brad.

She had so far, in the forty-five minutes she'd stepped foot in the house Puck had rented after arriving here via an Uber, managed to avoid looking at Santana and tried to stay a few feet away from Santana at all times.

She was more than ready to leave, to head straight to the airport, when she caught eyes with Brittany.

Brittany gave her a little wave, beckoning her over, then a wicked little grin, looks at Santana, and shoots Quinn an obvious wink.

Brittany knows, then, and is okay with it.

Quinn downs the rest of her drink and grabs a fresh one off the bar top -although, Artie made them when she first arrived, so who knew how fresh they were any more.

She downs the second and grabs a third. Putting a neutral smile on her face, she walks to the pair who used to be her best friends.

"Gee Quinn, long time no see, speak, or text. It's been what, since I was tongue deep in you?"

A heavy blush goes over her face, and even as she feels humiliated and angry and sad all at once, there's some comfort in knowing that Santana hasn't changed all that much.

She refused to look and see what the reaction to Santana's overly loud statement is, and instead raises an eyebrow and takes a deep breath, "Those years in college were meant to be for experimentation, weren't they?" She said it as cold as she can manage, which, judging by the smirk playing at Santana's lips, isn't all that cool. Quinn sighed, and accepted the inevitable -the drinks helped.

They make small talk for a while -Santana's in law school, Brittany's a kindergarten teacher at some fancy private school teaching math, and they both (with Brittany's cat) live with Kurt, Blaine and Rachel in New York.

Quinn never did go visit Rachel.

"No, you didn't. Rachel still bitches about it every now and then, eventually it'll lead to bitching about me and how she's clearly has mental issues for being best friends with her former bully."

Quinn wasn't even sure she'd said that out loud and it takes her a second to process -no more Artie made drinks if they're _that_ strong.

"I keep getting them B.F.F. necklaces -they both hate it, it's great." Brittany chimed in, giggling.

Santana rolled her eyes, "You only get us them because we always give them to you and Lord Tubbington."

"He loves them, but he's too proud to accept them directly." Brittany pouted.

Santana looked up at Brittany in that coy way through her eyelashes, and another hot flush went through Quinn.

She stepped away.

"Be careful, I have an audition next week!" Rachel snapped as she elegantly dodged away from their near collision.

Rachel looked good. She always did, but now there was a polish about her. Rachel had clearly shed awkward teenage years in Ohio and was all elegant adult in New York.

Still loved short skirts clearly -and wasn't it unfair that despite being as short as she was, Rachel still had gorgeous legs?

Maybe it had something to do with all those dance classes -it mutated her legs. The high heels Rachel was wearing that made her a good two inches taller than Quinn, made them look almost sinful.

Quinn forced herself to look away from Rachel's legs, and looked Rachel in the eyes.

"Rachel, hello." She finally said, too late.

"Quinn," Rachel said nodding at her. They stood awkwardly there for a few seconds too long, until Rachel raised her glass -"Cheers". They clinked the glasses together, both spilling a little of their drinks.

"How's -everything?" Quinn was used to making small talk, but Rachel and the drinks she'd consumed already weren't helping any.

This was a mistake.

Rachel shrugged in a way that reminded Quinn too much of Santana, "Fine. Not as well as I would like, but what is?"

"Weren't you at the top your NYADA class? I thought?" She'd assumed this whole time Rachel had ended up #1 in her year -it hadn't occurred to her that Rachel wouldn't have been.

Rachel snorted -and there was no denying it, that was Santana's derisive snort, "No. Undoubtedly if I had been half as much talented or beautiful then I am NYADA would been as beneficial as I expected."

"Do you think the way you acted, to get a second audition has anything to do with it?" That was too personal for small talk, but the words slipped out before she could stop them. _Definitely_ no more Artie made drinks.

Rachel glared at her and took a sip of her drink. "Perhaps. Sometimes I wonder if that is part of the issue -but it is not like I have had _no_ musical work, I just have not had the part that will propel me to being _someone_."

In the middle of the living room, Brittany and Santana had started doing a goofy dance together to the Drake remix Artie was blaring through his blue tooth speaker. Despite being goofy, it was also sexy, and Quinn had trouble focusing on Rachel as she blabbered on about stardom.

Too many, too strong drinks. _Clearly_. Someone kept walking around making sure no one had an empty drink, and already Quinn had drunk a fourth -or was it fifth?

"Our Ubers are here!" Artie shouted, causing the rest of them to cheer. "Time to hit the casino! Everyone have their phone? Don't let anyone wander off by themselves! Meet here at 2!"

Mercifully, Quinn managed to escape Rachel (who quite obviously hadn't had a captive audience to talk about all things Broadway in a while,) and hopped into an Uber with Tina, Mercedes, Kurt and Blaine.

Kurt eyed her up and down, then smiled baring too many teeth, "You RSVPed 'No' to the wedding,"

Quinn smiled back at him, baring just as many teeth, "That's because I don't like you."

He laughed, "Are you still going to donate an egg when we're ready for a baby?"

Blaine smiled, "It could be your gift instead of something off the registry."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at them both, not quite sure she'd drunk more then she thought and was having some weird blackout dream.

"Remember, when we made that video for Mr. Schue? In -when was it Blaine, 2011?"

"2012."

"2012," Kurt turned back to her, and gave her a winning smile.

"Um. I don't remember it actually -I mean, I remember the video, but I don't remember saying that in a _serious_ way. It's been years." Now she couldn't conceive of why she'd thought it'd been a smart idea to go back to Ohio and hang around with her old glee club so much -half the things they had said about Mr. Schue in that video were lies. But the ink was barely dry on her diploma and maybe she'd just needed something familiar.

"Well, it was basically a promise, and we really would appreciate it if you did it when the time comes."

"Ugh." Tina said, "Leave her alone. She was just a kid Kurt, and donating eggs isn't as easy as sperm. It's really unfair to pressure her to do it."

"I'm a little insulted you don't want me to do it -I'm your best friend! I could be your surrogate too!" Mercedes muttered, "Shane and I are planning on having a baby within the next two years then I could have yours!"

"Kurt and Blaine are racist, obviously -they want their perfect WASP baby." Tina flicked her hair and rolled her eyes. "Typical white men." Probably Tina has had too many drinks too at this point.

"No, we would love to have you be our donor and surrogate, wouldn't we Kurt?" Blaine looked like he wanted to melt into the seat at being called racist, "We just didn't think it would work with you and Shane's plans."

Kurt had turned a pink color, "We are not racist! Blaine's half Filipino! Not white."

"White enough," Tina rolled her eyes again.

"Is this what you learned in college? Basket weaving and calling people racist?" Kurt too, clearly had too many of Artie's drinks. No more Artie made drinks for anyone.

"I double majored in human resources and ethnic studies, you asshole, so I could do my part to make workplaces fair for _everyone_."

"You're Asian, it's not like you have problems like Mercedes because she's _black_." Kurt hissed, despite Blaine's frantic whispered attempts to get the other man to shut up. At least that's what Quinn assumed Blaine was whispering to him.

"Fuck _off_ -I'm a Korean and Jewish woman, not just "Asian"." Tina made finger quotes with her middle fingers when she said 'Asian' and Quinn giggled.

"Jewish? Aren't you _adopted_?" Kurt shrugged away Blaine's arm.

"I'm _not_ adopted, but even if I was I would still be Jewish. Not that any of you ever cared about that. _Asshole._" Tina looked like she was three seconds away from leaping across the car to slap Kurt.

Clearly everyone had too many drinks, and naturally the Air BNB Puck had booked was too long of a drive away from the strip. Quinn pulled her hair free from the clips holding it back, raking her mind for what she knew about Tina. Finally, she came up with "Aren't you going for your master's degree?" as smoothly as possible.

Tina turned her glare to Quinn, but nodded, "Yeah. I've been accepted into three master's programs -the one in New York is the best, but they're financial package is not going to cover cost of living."

"And your parents can't help?"

Tina shook her head, "Only if I accept the program in Ohio. I just don't feel like Ohio any more, you know? I'm a coast -I'd love to take the one in California, but they didn't offer _any_ money and that's just not doable."

"What will your master's be in?"

Tina smiled, "Business Administration."

Quinn nodded, "I almost minored in that -ended up minoring in creative writing because it paired well with my major."

"What was your major?"

"Finance. I know, who would have thought creative writing and Finance went together?" Quinn laughed, "I'm working at an investment firm right now, and -" as the words, the words she normally said when making small talk tumbled out Quinn felt herself zone out. Even with as much as she drank so far this was as easy as riding a bike.

Next to them, Mercedes was whispered quietly to a thoroughly chastened looking Kurt, and Blaine looked like he was about to cry.

The uber driver, meanwhile, looked like he was going to need a drink himself after this ride.

Eventually, they stood in front of a blinking casino. Amidst more reminders to keep phones handy and to meet to Uber back to the house at 2 am, they separated. A chunk of them went to get a drink, and Quinn found herself following Tina. The conversation had switched to cars of all things and Quinn found herself enjoying Tina -this Tina. Of course, the Tina of before wasn't someone Quinn had spent a lot of time with so maybe she had been this Tina, and Quinn just hadn't known.

"I _love_ Toyota's -I've got one in my parent's garage I've been working on, a 1976 Celica Supra, since I graduated high school. I'm just about done with it," Tina took a sip of her beer, and sighed, "I wish I could drive it to California. Why couldn't they have offered a better financial package?"

"I just bought a 2017 Highlander -paid in cash, using my holiday bonus," Quinn is particularly proud of this; it's a great accomplishment. She doesn't mention that she got a very nice discount because her future father-in-law knew the owner of the dealership.

"Don't you have student loans to pay off?" Rachel butts in from the next table over, where she's sitting with Brittany and Santana who are keeping her glass full.

Quinn gives her a cool glance, "I had some, and I paid them off with my signing bonus."

"Lucky," Rachel takes a sip of her beer and turns back to whatever she was talking about with Santana & Brittany. Guess she still hadn't lost her more annoying habits.

Tina whispered, "Yeah well maybe if Rachel had gone to a real school and majored in something people actually wanted to hire her in, she'd have money too."

The two of them giggled, and Rachel shot them a glare, rightly assuming they were laughing at her.

* * *

Rachel always forgot that Brittany found it hilarious when she got drunk -not "clingy" drunk like Finn had told her cruelly all those years ago, but past that. So Brittany always made sure to ensure Rachel had drinks, and drunk clingy Rachel would always accept them because she was a bit of an idiot.

After Clingy Rachel though, came Fun Rachel as Santana dubbed her. Despite Rachel's protests that she was _always_ fun.

Fun Rachel was fun to Santana and Brittany, not so much to Rachel.

Because of Fun Rachel, there was a picture proudly framed in their living room of Rachel mooning Kurt and Blaine from a taxi she was in with Brittany. It had been taken by Santana, and every time she had made that picture disappear, another one had popped up. She'd given up after twelve times. Clearly Santana -because who else could it be? Wasn't going to let the picture go away.

"Let's go see the sunset," she suggested. She had a hazy memory of a sign saying roof access.

"Do we have fun Rachel?" Santana hissed, then fist pumped, "I think we do!"

"I am _always_ fun, Santana," Rachel snapped, then sniffled, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't treat you like that." Then she wrapped an arm around Santana in a half hug.

"Not yet Santana," Brittany giggled, then patted the top of Rachel's head, "Let's go on the roof."

The three of them, balancing delicately against each other as the floor wasn't quite behaving well, along with Tina and Quinn trailing behind them made their way to the roof access door.

It was unlocked.

Quite foolish of the Casino people.

She stood in front of the rail, holding it tightly, and watched the sun setting over the Las Vegas strip.

Santana was right -this was a good choice, and worth the time off from work and auditioning. Of course telling Santana she was right was always a bad idea, so she would refrain from doing so.

Quinn stood next to her, "This is pretty."

"Yeah," Rachel murmured. The wind whipped their hair around and Rachel clutched the rail tighter.

A click behind them caused them both to turn cautiously, to find Brittany with the ancient Polaroid camera she'd dug out of her parents garage last time she was in Ohio.

"This is going to be such a cool picture!" Brittany chirped as the camera spit it out. Shaking it, she nodded to Santana -who was doing some sort of cartwheel line dance with Tina. "That's going to make a cooler picture!" And without even letting them see what it looked like, she shoved it into her bag and skipped over to the other pair.

"Hey, what are you doing up here?" A burly security guard shouted at them from the door.

* * *

The rest of the night had passed in a blur, until a stopping point of utter blackout.

Rachel did not remember meeting the others at 2 am, or the Uber ride back to the house -but she must have done so, as she was in her ridiculously sized California King sized bed. Santana and Brittany -and indeed, Kurt and Blaine, would have watched out for her and ensured she was safe and taken care of despite being so drunk. They were her friends, that's what friends did; especially friends who thought you were hilarious when you were drunk.

She needed Gatorade, salty french fries, and approximately four hundred and twenty-two aspirin.

No drinking tonight.

She groaned, and sat up, the sheet falling off her chest.

She was quite naked.

Why on earth was she naked?

Something made noises on the floor. She grabbed the sheet, pulling it up enough to cover her breasts, then looked over the side of the bed.

Tina was curled up around stuffed shark wearing a fringed white leather jacket. And next to Tina, Santana was wearing Rachel's shirt, and bra -visible, since Santana hadn't buttoned the blouse up.

Right.

Noises on the other side of the bed, and Quinn sat up.

Quinn was also quite naked. And she yelped when she realized it, grabbing at the sheet to pull it up over her chest -then winced at the sudden movement.

They stared at each other.

"Santana!" Brittany yelled through the door, "I hope you're in Rachel's room because I've looked everywhere else for you and if you aren't that means you got left in the Uber!"

"I'm here Britts," Santana looked down, and sighed, "Why am I wearing your clothes Rachel."

"We came in here and they were on the floor and you decided you wanted to wear them more then yours. Or maybe I dreamed that," Tina said without opening her eyes.

"The door's locked," Brittany called. "Someone open it, it's important."

"Is it coffee?"

"No, I found it when I went to make coffee and I realized you were lost."

Sighing heavily Santana crawled out the rest of the way from under the bed and opened the door. She, thankfully, was wearing her own underwear and not Rachel's.

"Babe." She smiled, then frowned as Brittany held out a bunch of papers. "What? Really?" Then, Santana started laughing. Grabbing two papers from Brittany, she turned towards Rachel and the others.

She held them up. Photographs.

Tina and Blaine at an alter in front of an Elvis Impersonator -both were dressed up in an Elvis costume.

Rachel and Quinn at an alter wearing the clothes they had started the night in, thankfully, while also being married by Elvis.

"You dorks got married." Santana laughed.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said icily, "Are you trying to say that Rachel Berry and I are married?"

"Oh yeah, " Santana nodded at the paper work Brittany was holding, "The official paper work, and more pictures are in there. _Mrs. Berry._"

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading!


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